The Collector
by Aeliar
Summary: As a storm bears down on the small town of Tranneth’s Hollow a group of mysterious Adventurers arrive, arousing the curiosity of the young Druid who inhabits the forest surrounding the town. What secret does the Sorcerer who leads them hold?
1. Prologue

The Collector

Prologue

She was strong, and she was fast. The wind of the coming storm, whistling between the trees and sending smaller creatures scurrying for shelter, made her fur undulate in waves as she paused in her running to sniff at the air. Her friend was close, and his howl had told her that he had found something that he thought she should see for herself. Assured that she was on the right path, she took off again, loping through the underbrush and finding paths and clear spaces with a supernatural ease. She caught the scent of frightened prey as she ran, and was tempted to follow it and catch a good meal for the night, but her friend's call had been insistent and worried. She pressed onwards, strong legs carrying her swiftly, and soon she burst from the forest and into the sparsly treed hills that lay beyond it. There her friend was, nearly invisible in the dark sky but clear to her eyes and more than obvious to her nose with the wind blowing the way it was.

He was a great Dire Wolf, older than he seemed, and more intelligent than any human would imagine. His body bore the scars of many battles, some the jagged and torn patterns of tooth and claw, but others were the clean and straight lines of man-forged weapons. In his youth he had been taken by a powerful Wizard, his intelligence raised and his strength bolstered so that he could become a guard animal for the tower the mage had constructed. When the mage had fallen to a rival, her friend had managed to escape his servitude, but there was no way to change him back to what he had been before. He had survived for long years outside the society of Wolves, a tormented merging of human mind and Wolf instinct, he had been on the verge of going mad when he found her.

"Shaia," he called to her as she began to lope up the hill he crouched at the top of. The name rang clearly in her head, though he used neither human speech nor the simple communication of Wolves.

"I am here, Grey-Eye," she responded, though she was limited to Wolf-speak. The name she had given him when they had become friends was difficult for the Wolf language to convey, but she had long ago worked out a way to do it. "What is it you have seen to pull me away from the last hunt before a storm?"

"On the road from Keisallan, travelers," he replied, indicating that she should crouch next to him and observe as well.

She obliged him, settling her white-furred body down beside his grey-black one. He dwarfed her in every way, his jaws alone larger than her whole head, and she positioned herself so that his bulk would block most of the wind howling from the east. She peeked over the rise of the hill and down to the road below. The hard-dirt road, more of a well-traveled path, wound its way through the hills from the miles-distant trading city of Keisallan to the small town of Tranneth's Hollow, and while it wasn't uncommon to see travelers on it, it was rarely used at night, and never when one of the Great Storms was blowing in from the sea to the east. Tonight there was a band of six on the road, leading their horses and pack animals and leaning against the heavy winds.

"Brave ones," she said, cocking her head to the side and looking up at her friend. "But why call?"

"They are not normal travelers," Grey-Eye said, his thought-voice dropping to a growl. "There is magic with them, I can feel it. They have a Wizard, perhaps more than one. The large one looks like a Warrior, and the women move too confidently."

Shaia looked up at her friend for a long moment, and then began to change. The shape shift took only moments, the space of a few words in the common tongue, and when it was done in the place of the white wolf there was a beautiful young woman lying next to the great Dire Wolf. Her hair was long and pulled into a single braid that looked as if it hadn't been taken out for days, but still shone a starry silver in the weak light of the moon through the thickening clouds. Her eyes were of a matching colour, bright and energetic, and looked down upon the struggling men and women with deep interest. Her ears were sharply pointed, and though her face lacked the angular features of an Elf the ears and the smallness of her body had led many to believe she was one of those long-lived people. She was clothed in a plain shirt and pants of warm leather, soft boots covering her feet, and about her neck hung a silver chain with a medallion in the shape of a growing tree resting between her small breasts.

"Adventurers," she said aloud in the common trade language of the humanoid races, and Grey-Eye growled his agreement. "But why would they come to the Hollow? There is no treasure here, no dungeons to raid, no lost secrets to uncover."

"Perhaps they know something we do not," Grey-Eye said.

Shaia considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "There is the hills, the forest, and the Hollow, and nothing else for many leagues around. If there were something in the forest, we would know, if there were something in the hills, we would know again."

"Something in the Hollow?"

"Perhaps, I have heard no mention of it from the townsfolk when I go to speak and trade with them. They have lived in as good a harmony with nature as can be expected from common humans, had they been hiding more than the petty concerns of men I would have sensed it."

"Then why?" Grey-Eye wondered, more than a little worry in his thought-voice. "Adventurers do nothing that does not lead them to treasure or some piece of forgotten lore. They seek only to improve their skills and their power, and amass more wealth than any man has a right to."

"Some are not so terrible," she chided him, knowing from experience that his estimation was true for the overwhelming majority, even if it was not for all. "Even I considered it once, before I found my place in this forest, before I found a good friend in you," she smiled at the Dire Wolf, reaching out a hand to stroke at his scarred fur.

"Some are not so terrible," he conceded, leaning slightly in to her hand. "But even the better ones never do anything without good reason, and always drag trouble along with them."

"Then I suppose I'll be making a trip into town during the storm," Shaia sighed. "And I was so hoping to feast on a fresh kill and wait out the rains with a full belly and a warm den. Now I'll be locked in that inn with the girl who doesn't stop staring and the boy who nearly wets himself with lust whenever I so much as walk into the room. And the suspicious glances of the parents who think I am intentionally causing it all!"

"I will not be able to rest easy not knowing what they're doing here," Grey-Eye said.

"I know, and I'm doing this for you, my friend," Shaia replied. "I simply hope they will let me have a room to myself this time instead of sharing with that daughter of theirs again. I sometimes think she lusts after me more than her brother does, and I can't do anything about it without angering the parents to the point where . . ." her voice trailed off as her eyes locked on the last member of the Adventuring group making its way towards Tranneth's Hollow. He was average height for a human man, and while his form was slender he moved with a definite masculinity, a confidence of motion that was lacking even with the large man leading the group. He had stopped, his horse whinnying slightly at being left even further behind from the rest of the horses, and he was staring right at where Shaia and Grey-Eye lay.

"He sees us!" Grey-Eye said, tensing, but Shaia was quick to flatten her hand against him, warning him to stillness. She couldn't see his face, the hood of his cloak was pulled up over his head, but she could tell somehow that he hadn't spotted them. That he knew something was there was obvious, but he hadn't been able to identify it yet, and if the huge Wolf were to move, he would be spotted for sure.

Deep within her Shaia felt something stirring. Something about this man had touched off a swell of emotion in her that was quickly rising to the surface. Slowly the man brought his hands up to his hood, and then paused for a moment, as if considering, before throwing it back and revealing his face. Shaia caught herself as she gasped. To call the man handsome would be an insult to his beauty. Even with the increasing wind throwing his dark hair about his face his features screamed an absolute perfection that was at once strange and impossible, but also completely natural and right. Startling blue eyes looked out from an unlined face that held the traits of a mixed human-Elven parentage, scanning across the hilltops as he sought them out. Shaia flushed hot as desire hit her like a breaking wave, and it was only with an effort of will that she steadied her breathing.

"By all the Gods!" she said in a husky whisper. "I've never seen anything like him!"

Grey-Eye growled again, but remained still. "Now I believe I will rest even less easy should you go to the Hollow," his thought-voice said, spinning sarcasm through the words in a way that he had learned from his long-dead former master. "Can you control yourself around him long enough to learn his purpose, or will you bed him immediately?"

"What?" Shaia said, embarrassment mixing in with the desperate desire that still remained, even as the Half-Elf pulled his hood back over his head and continued down the road, abandoning his search of the hills. He was quickly out of sight in the growing darkness. "I will do no such thing!"

"And why not?" Grey-Eye said, amused at her embarrassment even as he worried over the presence of the Adventurers. "You want him, I could smell it forty paces upwind of you. You've never been reluctant to indulge yourself before."

"But, I …" Shaia spluttered, before finally giving up and laughing at her friend. "Yes, I admit it! I want him. But until I find out why he's here, it's probably better that I remain a little more distant from him and his group."

"And once you find out what we want to know?" Grey-Eye goaded, his large head turning to regard her. The large steel-colored eyes for which she had named him conveying all the emotions and thoughts that swirled in his magically-altered mind.

"Well, then I will have my way with him," Shaia said, grinning. "I wonder how experienced he is, perhaps I can learn something new."

"Yes, I wonder how experienced he is too," Grey-Eye said, the playfulness dropping out of his thought-voice as he turned his head again to stare in the direction the Adventurers had disappeared. "But I'd really prefer it if he didn't have anything new to show me…" His thought-voice trailed off just as a flash lit the hills, followed closely by the first peal of thunder in the storm.


	2. Ch 1: Daevock

The Collector

Chapter 1: Daevock

Tranneth's Hollow was a town that would never grow larger than it was now. Nested in a crescent of hills that held off the strong eastern wind and protected the town from the devastating floods that came with the Great Storms, it had endured for more than two hundred years. A cluster of sturdy houses made up the town proper, with the largest building the inn, which also served as town hall and emergency shelter. The inn, though small by city standards, had several good rooms available, and more space could be prepared when needed, though it rarely came to that. Sharnan's Rest, as the inn was called, saw only sparse use even in the best of seasons, and when a Great Storm threatened it could be expected that the only customers it would be playing host to would be farmers washed out of their homes until the rain stopped.

Kale Sharnan listened to the distant crack of thunder and sighed. It was shaping up to be a big one, this storm, and if he didn't miss his guess there would be a lot of wet farmers looking for better shelter than their own homes. That didn't irk him much, the farmers always paid for their stay by providing the innkeeper and his family with food and clothing when they needed it, and providing cheap food for guests when the inn saw them. No, what got him was that the farmers always brought their animals with them, and expected the innkeeper and his family to be able to look after the beasts as well as their owners.

"You've got the blankets and beds ready?" He asked of his tall son as the young man came up behind him. "And brought in the wood we'll be needing for the fires?"

"Yeah, dad," his son replied, dropping into a chair next to his father. The boy had nearly reached the age where he could be considered an adult, and though Kale had always hoped to see him leave the Hollow to go make his fortune in the wider world, it was seeming more and more likely that he would instead stay in the town and follow in his father's and grandfather's footsteps. Kale knew that other fathers would like nothing better than for their sons to want to be like them enough to sacrifice a possible future of adventure and wealth, but he couldn't help but feel that a certain wood-witch had more to do with his son's attitude than any idolization of him. "It sounds like a bad one," his son said, looking at the same tightly shuttered and nailed shut window as his father.

Kale nodded in agreement, pausing as another peal of thunder shuddered through the inn. "Tell your mother and sister to get the fire in the kitchen burning, the rain'll start soon and then we'll be gettin' visitors soon enough, and I know more than a few of them'll want to eat."

"Yeah, dad, I'll tell them," the boy said, getting out of the chair and heading for the door beside the short bar that led to the kitchen. Kale sighed again, looking around his clean common room. He was stocked up on ale and the local wine, had water for the children and the less adventuresome women, and enough food to last a full in for a week, which he hoped dearly wouldn't be needed. His wife and daughter were both quick and good cooks, though their selection of dishes wore thin after as long a while as he'd been eating them. His son could tend the bar as well as any he had seen, though when he wasn't busy with all the other requests customers made Kale preferred to see to that job himself.

The door to the kitchen opened and his daughter scurried through. She was only a year younger than his son, and it was often remarked by the other fathers in the town that she was the prettiest girl in the Hollow. Not that there was much competition for that title, but he knew she was already making some of the wild young boys of the town and the surrounding farms jump to her bidding with a batted eyelash or coy smile. Her mother had been just the same way in her day, and truth be told she still retained much of the vibrance that had so enamored him in his youth, though hardened by the long years of experience and dull town life.

"Mom's getting the fire ready, and she sent Rab to fetch more water from the well just in case someone's injured and we need a store to boil for bandages," she said, coming up to the table where he sat, plucking absently at the large cloth bow that held her long brown hair out of her face. "She told me to come out and keep you company while she worked. I'm worried, dad, Rab says it's going to be a bad one."

"Ah, Rinni, don't worry about what Rab says. We've been through plenty of storms like this," Kale assured her. "The year you were born the waters started flooding the Hollow itself! I'm not thinking it'll get that bad, though we're likely to see a lot of wind and hard rain."

"But Cessa Dorma said that her grandma said her fingers were aching, and that meant that this storm's going to be worse than the others."

"Lera Dorma's fingers ache all the time, little heart, it doesn't mean anything more than that it's one of the Great Storms, and we already knew that."

"I don't like these storms," Rinni said after a short silence. The wind had picked up again, and was now whistling through the small cracks between the shutters. Outside it could be heard howling through the village, even protected as it was by the ring of hills surrounding and elevating it.

"Neither do I, little heart, neither do I," Kale said, putting an arm around his daughter and drawing her in for a warm hug. Just as he was letting her go the loud report of someone knocking at the door startled him. Rinni jumped and gave a little shriek, for which she immediately began to colour red with embarrassment in the pale candlelight. "Quick, to your mother, girl," he commanded. "It seems as if some of those farmers have gotten smart enough this year to come to me before their feet start soaking and their roofs blow off."

Kale made his way to the main entrance of the inn as Rinni ran back into the kitchen, her light footsteps barely making a whisper on the well-traveled floors. The knocking came again just as he made it to the door, and with a quick turn of the latch he opened it inward. Immediately he was assaulted by the sound and force of the winds, his eyes tearing with it as he strained to look out into the darkness and discern who it was that had come looking for shelter. A moment later he couldn't repress a look of surprise as his visitors turned out to not be farmers come early, like he had thought, but rather a group of hooded and cloaked figures holding horses.

"This is the inn, yes?" The man who had knocked on the door said, nearly shouting to be heard over the wind.

Kale pulled himself together quickly. "Yes! I'll have someone take your horses in a moment!" He replied, then ducked his head back into the inn. "Rinni, Polla! Get Rab out here now, we've got customers who need their horses stabled!" He turned back to the travelers, only barely catching the beginning of the disbelieving reply from his wife. "Is this all of you?" He asked looking over the six windblown figures in front of him. Two were obviously male, the one talking to him and the huge man holding several horses behind the others. Of the other four two were obviously female, and the other two were too hard to distinguish for certain in their wind-whipped cloaks.

"Yes, this is all of us!" The man said. "My name is Daevock!"

"I'm Kale Sharnan!" He said, catching sight of his son rushing up from around the side of the Inn. "This is my son Rabbad! He'll see to your horses so you can get inside out of this wind!"

"My thanks, Kale Sharnan!" The man who had named himself Daevock said, and dutifully handed his horse over to Rab. It took only a few minutes to get all the horses into the Inn's stable to the boy's credit, and soon all the travelers had made their way inside for Kale to shut the door on the wind.

"The common room's just down to the side there," he said, indicating the way for them. "Pull yourselves up a seat and I'll see about starting a fire."

"My thanks again," Daevock said, pulling the hood away from his face. Something about his voice now that he was out of the screaming wind plucked at Kale. It was a melodious voice, almost otherworldly, yet strong and sure at the same time, and it seemed to spark a feeling of deep trust in him. "I had begun to think that we wouldn't make the town before the rains began. Perhaps I could negotiate for rooms now, before I sit down? We'll certainly be needing them until the storm is passed."

Kale almost missed what was said as he caught sight of the man's face in the faint candlelight coming into the hall from the common room. The man, his slightly pointed ears and fine features proclaiming his heritage as a Half-Elf, was the most beautiful thing Kale had ever laid eyes on. The innkeeper was left wondering for a lost moment if some Angel had decided to visit his inn. Daevock's eyes, those intense blue orbs, sent shocking tingles through Kale as he met them, jolting his mind into motion again. "I, of course," he said, his tongue feeling heavy and the words clumsy. He almost wanted to apologize for taking so long, but the stranger's eyes urged him on. "I don't have rooms enough for all of you, though. How many will you need?"

"Three will be sufficient," Daevock said, lips quirking up in a smile that made Kale grin with relief and pleasure. "How much to have them for the week?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't… the storm. You need shelter, and I'm happy to oblige," the innkeeper said, the words stumbling over each other as they came out.

"No, no, that won't do," Daevock said, and Kale felt like he wanted to melt away from those incredible eyes. "I have the coin to spare, and I'm sure my companions will inconvenience you and your family at least a little during our stay. I insist you charge us the full price, not a copper less, no matter what the circumstances of our arrival."

"Of, of course," Kale said, his lips twitching, undecided as to whether he should smile or cry. "It's… it's two silver pieces for a room for a week, so six for the whole of it," Kale swallowed. In a town such as Tranneth's Hollow, six silver pieces was a large sum, but he didn't know what a man such as Daevock would think of it.

"Of course, then that is settled," Daevock said, reaching into his cloak to pull at the strings of a coin purse. The distinct ring of a good amount of coin followed, and the man produced six shining silver pieces, which he laid in Kale's obediently outstretched hand. "There we are. Now, about that fire you were going to set. The weather is warm this time of year, but the wind chills one so."

Before he could say anything else Kale was rushing through the inn for the wood store. He would need to get the fire going, and soon. He didn't want his honored guests to be cold.

* * *

Leena Karto descended gracefully into one of the hard wooden chairs that surrounded the tables of the common room. She leaned the long, cloth-wrapped staff against the wall next to her and shrugged off her cloak, leaving it to hang over her chair and provide at least some measure of comfort for her legs and back. She watched the others as they took up their own positions in the room while Daevock spoke to the innkeeper.

Sten Salva sat with his back to the wall next to the fireplace, the large warrior looking ill at ease without his sword or armor, which Daevock had insisted be left with the horses. Taking up a seat at the same table was Renick. The Elf, though tall for his people, seeming a child next to Sten's bulk, his forest green eyes never stopped moving as he pulled his hood down and began to relax. She knew from experience that he was memorizing every detail of the room, just in case he needed to fight blindly in it. Ilana Maerova the pale priestess took a seat next to Leena, dropping her cloak unceremoniously into a pile next to her. The final member of their party moved to the far side of the room from everyone else, pulling a chair into the corner and sitting quietly, her hood up and cloak wrapped around her still.

Ilana flashed a smile to Leena and leaned towards her. "Tell me, is my makeup still on?" She asked. Leena looked over to the Priestess, noting the careful black outline around her eyes and covering her eyelids and the intentional whitening of the skin. Her lips pursed so that Leena could see if any of the dark red paint had smudged or worn off.

"It's all still there," Leena confirmed. "Though why you would bother to ask is a mystery to me. It was windy outside, not raining."

Ilana shrugged. "It's always good to know," she leaned back into her chair, tipping it up on two legs. Leena was sure that she was going to bring her booted feet up onto the table, but thankfully her companion refrained. "This is a good storm," she said, closing her eyes and lacing her fingers behind her head. "It's going to last days."

"And Daevock still hasn't told us why we're here," Leena said, looking around the meager common room of the inn. "I would have preferred to stay in Keisallan for the storm. For all the rough stink of a trading city, it had comfortable lodgings."

"Ah, come down from your tower!" Ilana smirked. "This place is fun. Out in the middle of nowhere, wilderness all around for more miles than we could walk in a day, one of the Great Storms heading straight for it, what's not to like?"

"All of the above, Ilana," Leena sighed. "It will rain and it will rage, and I suppose that will keep you happy, but I will be going half-mad in this place," she watched with idle interest as the innkeeper came rushing into the room with an armful of wooden logs. The man nearly tripped over himself as he leapt towards the hearth and quickly began stuffing the wood in. Daevock himself strode in only moments later, casually removing his cloak and smiling pleasantly at his companions. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must have words with our leader."

"Talk to him all you want, but remember it's my turn tonight," Ilana said, her voice suddenly low and dangerous. Leena turned to lock eyes with the other woman, and for a long moment considered going for her throat.

"I remember," she said finally, pulling her gaze away as she stood. "I leave you to hope that he does as well," she could almost feel the snarl on the Priestess's face as she walked away, but chided herself on delivering the jab. She didn't need such emotional displays, the agreement dictated that it was Ilana's turn to spend the night with Daevock, and there was no reason to be jealous or waspish over it. Leena's turn would come, she need only remember to be patient.

"Ah, Leena," Daevock said as he noticed her approaching, though his eyes were still on the innkeeper who was hastily trying to get the fire to start. "I suppose you are the least suited for this setting of our entire group. I apologize for bringing you so far out of your element, but I assure you it was necessary."

Leena felt her legs go weak as he spoke to her, but forced herself to remain calm. She glanced at the innkeeper, quirking an eyebrow. "How long will it last?"

"Oh, maybe another five minutes," he replied. "There will be some lingering effects, of course, but I thought it the most expedient way to get us settled and on with our business."

"And what, exactly, is our business here?" Leena asked, fixing her gaze on the Half-Elf.

"Oh, dear Leena," Daevock said, turning his eyes to look into hers. She forced herself to remain calm; to quiet her breathing, but her body was betraying her. "You will see soon enough, though I'm afraid you won't be too happy with me for it," he lifted a flawless hand to caress her cheek, and a shudder went up her spine at the touch, her breath coming in short bursts. She closed her eyes against him, forcing her body to still, falling deep into her old meditative training to instill some sort of order on herself.

"You should tell us your plans," she breathed. "We can assist you better if we know what it is we should be doing."

"Leena, Leena, my sweet, logical Leena," Daevock whispered, drawing her close enough to feel his warm breath on her closed eyes. "Do you love me?"

Leena choked back a small whine and swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Then if you love me," Daevock said, pushing her back. "Don't second guess my decisions. You'll find out why we're here when I decide it's time for you to know. Until then study your spellbook, play with this man's family, whatever you want to do to ensure you're entertained. Oh, and make sure you and Ilana don't tear each other apart. I spent a lot of time and effort finding you two, I will not tolerate you putting it all to waste with some petty squabbling," Leena nodded dumbly, still working to steady herself, cursing mentally at her own profound weakness. Daevock's gaze turned back to the innkeeper, who had managed to get the fire going. "Wonderful, sir. I'm grateful that we have found such a hospitable place to stay during this storm. Won't you please introduce us to your family? I'm sure your son is done with the horses by now, and if I'm not mistaken there are others in the kitchen who might want to meet their guests."

"Yes, yes of course!" The man said, stumbling to his feet, a broad, too-happy grin on his face. "They'll want to meet you, I know they will, my wife and daughter are good people, and my son's so grown up! I know they'll want to meet you!"

"Of course, but you have to go and fetch them before they can meet anyone," Daevock said, and the man cast a slightly panicked look at the kitchen door, but then nodded his head like he was trying to shake it off and hurried towards the door. "Just a little push," Daevock sighed and brushed an errant strand of dark brown hair from his face. "I wonder if it would break his mind if I used the real thing?"

There was the muted sounds of voices from the kitchen, drowned out by the wailing of the wind outside the inn's walls, then the door opened and two women were pushed in by the innkeeper. "Kale, what has gotten into you?" The older woman was saying. She seemed to be of the same age as the innkeeper, but retained a good deal of the prettiness she must have had in her youth, a prettiness that she had obviously passed on to her daughter. In the cities that Leena preferred she wouldn't have been more than slightly above average, but she supposed in such a remote place she could pass for the most beautiful girl in the town. That boded well for the girl's future, or at least it had, before Daevock came. "Why are you . . . oh," the innkeepers wife said as she caught sight of Daevock's smiling face. Leena almost felt sorry for them, their lives had just changed, and unlike her and Ilana, these poor women would not be leaving with the Half-Elf.

"Why, Kale Sharnan, you did not tell me that your wife and daughter were beautiful as well as good people!" Daevock said, striding towards the awestruck family. Their daughter, who couldn't have been more than fifteen, looked like she was going to faint, and Leena saw Daevock tense in preparation should it happen. "Kale, would you care to introduce me to these lovely women?"

"This is my wife, Polla," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Not, Leena noted, in a protective manner, but more as if her was making ready to shove her at the Half-Elf. Leena held back a snort; the poor man was doomed. "And my daughter Rinni," he moved his hand towards his daughter, almost as if he was going to almost-push her towards Daevock like he had with his wife, but instead cut the gesture short. A confused look ghosted across the man's face, as if he were uncertain of exactly what to do now.

"I am delighted to meet the both of you," he said, smiling at each woman in turn. "My name is Daevock, and these are my companions. The one next to me is Leena Karto, the one at the table is Ilana Maerova, the two imposing men are Renick and Sten Salva, and the quiet one in the corner is Sariel Denilan," Daevock turned to the still cloaked figure huddled in the corner. "Sariel, why don't you take off the cloak, you must be getting quite warm in here," he said, and though his words sounded nothing like a command, Leena knew it carried the weight of one.

Sariel shrugged out of the cloak, letting it fall around the chair, though she made no other move. Her long orange-red hair spilled messily over her shoulders and down her back, seeming to deepen in colour against her tanned skin and lighten against the stained white of her simple shirt. Eyes of bright turquoise regarded Daevock for a moment with unfathomable emotion, before drifting unfocused to a bright corner of the room.

"Good girl," Daevock said, smiling proudly at the third woman of his troupe. Leena threw a disgusted look her way before stalking back to her seat next to Ilana who was grinning at the trapped family. "Now I'm sure you three have much do, but would you mind if I were to talk with you for a while? I'm sure your work could stand a delay of a few minutes or so," a chorus of agreement came from the Sharnan family, and Daevock laughed brightly, the sound mixing in with the first dull sounds of rain against the shutters. "Wonderful! Now, let's take a seat, and you can tell me everything you know about the forest around here."


	3. Ch 2: The Storm Begins

**Chapter 2: The Storm Begins**

Rab Sharnan pulled the saddle from the last horse, setting it down on the shelf built in to the stall and rubbing down the beast. The stable was large, especially for a town as small as the Hollow, but it often served as shelter for farm animals during Great Storms. With the added horses from the travelers, it was going to be cramped this time. Rab didn't relish the thought of cleaning it out after the storm had run its course, but everyone would have work to do after the rains stopped, and he'd take mucking out the stable over searching the woods for pieces of what used to be your home any day.

The sound of thunder crashed through the closed stable, momentarily blocking the howl of the wind, the horses stamping restlessly with the noise. None of them moved more than that, though, and that was telling. Rab had seen all sorts of horses growing up an innkeepers son, and he'd gotten to know the types pretty well. These weren't just normal riding or pack horses, they had been trained, taught to not fear sudden loud noises or other distractions. He'd seen a few merchants with horses like this, but more often than not they belonged to the mercenaries protecting the merchant. Hardened warriors and ex-soldiers, Rab had never liked their type. Most drank hard and boasted loudly, looking for a fight wherever they could get it. More than a few of them had made a pass at his mother, or even his sister, and some didn't like taking no for an answer. Even worse than them, though, were the ones who didn't drink, didn't boast, didn't do much at all except look at you. They all had the same eyes, no matter what, always that cold, dead look.

The warm thump of rain began to sound from the roof. Rab sighed, he had hoped to make it back into the inn before it had begun to rain, but that plan was through now. He resigned himself to getting wet, and finished with the horses. It hadn't taken him long, he had been doing this most of his life now, but he still had to cart the travelers' equipment into the inn, preferably without getting it soaked. The wheelbarrow he used when cleaning the stable would do fine, so long as he had enough oilcloth to wrap all the travelers' things.

By the time he had them all wrapped, with some of the waterproof cloth to spare but not enough to protect him, the rain had gone from a rough sprinkling to a downpour. The way the Hollow was set meant most of it would run down and out of the crescent of hills, but if this one was as bad as Rab feared it was going to get, then they might see some flooding in the town. He nibbled at his lower lip, pushing the stable door open slightly to check outside. It was very dark now, and the rain was like a gray sheet that obscured everything even further. Steeling himself for the rush of cold, he shoved the door open and wheeled the gear through. He was soaked through almost instantly, like he had jumped into one of the streams that went past the Hollow through the forest and hills. He pushed the door shut again and hurried towards the inn, and slipped in the new-muddied ground.

His feet went out from under him, his face coming down hard towards the cloth-wrapped equipment, too fast to catch himself or even begin to react. His nose smashed into the bundle and broke, blood spraying out and smearing across the oilcloth and his face as he slid from the cart onto the ground. If the equipment hadn't been carefully wrapped he might have hurt himself much worse, but at that moment all he could think about was the screaming agony of his face. He rolled onto his back, hands cupping his broken face as his legs thrashed in spasms of pain. He tried to scream but for the moment he couldn't find the breath, and blood was spilling down his throat. Whimpering and gasping he lurched onto his side and coughed out some of the blood, shielding his face from the stinging downpour as he began to sob. The instant pain of the broken nose dimmed, but he could feel the ominous beginnings of the throbbing ache that would last until the nose had healed.

He lay there on his side for quite some time, crying and moaning with the pain, letting the water wash around him as if he were a strangely shaped rock in a shallow stream. He would have lain there longer, but some deep sense suddenly spoke through the pain, warning him that there was something dangerous close by. He froze, eyes straining to look through the darkness and the rain. Then there was hot breath on his face, and he rolled to his back to stare into the unearthly silver eyes of a white wolf. Fear seized Rab for a moment, but it was gone quickly, and he scrambled to his knees, a pained smile coming to his face. The wolf blinked at him, and then wasn't a wolf anymore.

Rab had known the last Druid of the forest when he was a child. That man had been a friend to all the children of the Hollow, playing with them when he could, taking them out on wondrous hikes through the wilderness when he could convince their parents to let him. They had said he was over eighty years old, but he didn't look much older than twenty-five, and had never lost his youthful vitality. Even though the children had loved him, their parents had never trusted him fully. They were jealous of his unageing vigor, suspicious of his magical abilities, and most certainly afraid of his power to transform at will into a creature of the wild. His preferred form had been that of a great brown bear, and he had delighted in carrying Rab and his sister on his back, shambling through the forest to show them secret places where their parents had never gone.

When the old Druid died, no one had been expecting it. Some had thought that since he looked so young, he had somehow found a way to live forever at one with nature, never ageing, never dieing. Everyone felt his passing, and everyone mourned it. Even the elder townsfolk, those who had been wary of him, had realized that deep down they had really liked him, had known he was a good man. The year after he had died had been a hard one, the worst the town had seen in over a generation, and everyone knew it was because they no longer had a Druid in the woods to protect them.

When the townsfolk learned that a new Druid had come to the forest, they had sent out a party to find and greet whoever it was, welcoming them to the Hollow. Rab had been part of that group, just old enough to be included. When he had first caught sight of Shaia stepping out of a copse of trees that he could have sworn had been empty only a moment before, he knew that he had fallen in love. He'd been getting on nicely with the girls of the Hollow, and had thought that he was quick witted, but the at the mere sight of her he had been struck dumb. All sense left his head, and he had spent the rest of that first meeting trying not to gape at her. She was older than him, he knew that from the beginning, but she was barely over five feet tall, and her pointed ears, smooth skin and strange eyes had made her seem both young and experienced at the same time. He barely remembered the others from the Hollow talking with her, giving her the welcome they had meant, but also sounding a note of wariness. They had expected someone like the old Druid, perhaps a young man with a quick smile and the soft, leafy smell Rab always remembered about the man. Instead there was a beautiful, otherworldly woman who had agreed readily enough to helping the townsfolk when they needed it, but was too wild and too predatory to be safe for the young men and women of the Hollow. Rab just wanted to be left to drown in those silver eyes.

She had stayed her first night at the inn not long after that meeting. The midsummer festival had brought all the townsfolk and the local farmers together to celebrate, dance and feast. Shaia had come creeping in, careful and almost shy about intruding into the Hollow's close-knit circle of neighbors. She had been welcomed again, and treated well, though the people watched her closely to see what she would be like among so many people. Once she had relaxed her wild nature began to show through, as well as her astounding physicality. She was strong and lithe, hardy and quick. A sharp eye and a voracious appetite won her the respect of the farmers, and though she didn't know the local dances, she threw herself into them with an abandon that made Rab's blood run hot. She was a shining silver star amongst the people of the Hollow, and once he had found his voice he had insisted that she stay the night instead of going back to the forest. She had agreed, though reluctantly, and he had lain awake all that night thinking of her next door in his sister's room.

When he talked to the other boys of the town about her, he found he wasn't the only one who felt this way. Each one of them had found something about her excited them, in more ways than one. None of the other girls of the town had made them feel like they did when they saw her. It was like she was surrounded by some kind of light, something that made them just stare at her and do anything to get her to look at them, to smile at them. Normally, when several of the boys wanted one of the girls and admitted it to each other, there'd be some sort of contest to see who would get first rights to her. With Shaia none of them had wanted to do that, it hadn't seemed right somehow. They were content that they all felt the same way, and that they all knew they wanted her, and for some reason they couldn't explain, it was right for them to all feel that way. Their parents, of course, had taken this as a sure sign that she'd bewitched them all, and the town suddenly got a lot colder towards the young Druid, though they knew enough not to be rude or shut her out.

He blinked into the rain, and realized that she had been saying something to him. She looked at him, worry in her silver eyes, stray strands of hair matted to her face by the pounding rain, clothes soaked through, sticking to her body, showing off every curve. He shook his head again, forcing his mind to focus. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" He shouted at her, then winced as it made his broken nose sing agony through his face.

"I said I'm going to have to straighten your nose!" She said, coming in very close. "It will hurt, but try not to move!" She laid her hands on either side of his broken, bleeding nose, and he froze. Even through the pain he could feel the heat of a blush crawling up his face, thankfully lost in the dark and the rain and the blood. Then in a quick motion she brought her hands together over his nose and jerked it straight. He screamed at the top of his lungs as fresh suffering tore through him, but he did as she asked and managed to hold himself still. She smiled at him, and suddenly he forgot all about the pain, lost in those beautiful eyes. A soft glow distracted him, and he shifted his gaze to see her hand surrounded by a nimbus of cool blue light, carefully pressing her fingertips against his face. He blinked, and realized that the pain really was gone now, the bleeding had stopped and he felt as good as if he had woken up from a long, relaxing nap.

"Thank you," he said, though it was too quiet in the wind for her to hear him. She caught his meaning anyways, and brought a hand up to run through his wet hair. It was a gesture of affection that she had never used with him before, though he was sure it meant only that she was glad he hadn't been hurt any worse. She helped him to her feet, surprisingly strong for a girl her size, and he pointed towards the back door of the inn. She nodded, catching his meaning, and started for the door as he took up the wheelbarrow again, careful this time to avoid slipping. She had the door open for him when he got there, and shoved it shut as soon as he was in, cutting the sound of wind and rain down to a dull rumble.

"What were you doing out there?" She asked him as he turned from the cart.

"I was getting the guests' baggage," he replied.

"So they made it before the rains began," Shaia said, looking with interest at the cloth-wrapped bundles in the wheelbarrow.

"You know about the travelers?"

"I saw them coming in. I didn't know if they'd be able to get to the Hollow before the storm started to get really bad. I just got here myself, they must have ridden some more after I lost sight of them. How long have they been here?"

He shrugged, estimating as best he could in his head. "Half of an hour? Maybe a little more?"

Shaia hummed softly to herself at that, pulling her silver braid around to her front and squeezing along its length to get some of the water out while they were still in the storage area. "Could you please get your father? I'm going to have to bed here until the storm passes, and I'd like to know if there's anything I can do to make myself useful while I'm here."

"Yeah, of course," Rab said, reluctant to leave her, but moving already for the door to the kitchen and the rest of the Inn. "Rinni should have some clothes you could wear as well, I'll get those for you too."

"Thanks Rab, I appreciate it," she said, smiling at him again.

He stepped carefully into the kitchen, taking off his boots to avoid muddying up the kitchen floor and padded to the door connecting to the common room. He was almost there by the time he realized that neither his mother nor his sister were bustling about the kitchen, and when they were expecting farmers seeking refuge or had guests staying there was always one or the other of them getting things ready. He frowned at it, figuring he'd know in a moment what was about, and pushed into the common room.


	4. Ch 3: Power

**Chapter 3: Power**

Shaia cleared a space on the top of a crate, from the smell it was likely charcoal for the stoves, and sat down on top. Her leathers slapped wetly onto the wood and she hissed at the sudden press of cold. She didn't like being in wet clothes, they were cold and stuck to her and started to go moldy far too quickly. Sometimes they felt too much like wet fur, which she also really didn't like. She didn't mind being wet when she was naked, or when she had assumed a form more appropriate to water, but most times she had neither luxury. Another thing she didn't like was mud, and though most of the townfolk she met with assumed that someone who lived out in the forest with no wood-and-stone house to surround them liked being dirty, she had always liked to imagine that she defied convention. She carefully undid the laces that held her soft boots on and pulled the mud-slick leather from her feet, setting the shoes by the crate to dry.

Then she pulled her legs up and settled into a patient crouch, waiting for the innkeeper to make his appearance. After a time it became obvious that Kale was too busy entertaining these unlikely guests to see to her immediately. A sly smile crept onto her face, and her bright eyes slid from the kitchen door to the wheelbarrow of cloth-wrapped bundles. She knew that going through other people's things was wrong, her parents had made that very clear to her several times when she was young, but she hadn't lived by the codes and mores of humanity for years now. There was no right and no wrong to consider with taking a look, and she certainly didn't intend to steal anything.

She had known some Druids who wouldn't have even stopped there. There were no laws in nature, no possessions other than what you took and what you could defend. Shiny objects left untended were liable to be taken by any passing creature, from a magpie to a raccoon and more. Shaia was of the school of Druidic thought that said such behavior was wrong, at least for Druids. They might be the representatives of nature, the caretakers, brothers and sisters to the great mother and father of earth and sun, but they were each also representatives of their own race, and as such should be as much of that civilized world as apart from it.

Still, nothing said she shouldn't take a look, and so she carefully picked her way across the dirt floor to the wheelbarrow. She considered the bundles, large and small, long or wide, they were piled high and precarious, and several were sticking out so far that they threatened to fall out of the cart. Shaia spent a moment smiling over the minor miracle of the whole thing not falling over and spilling everything when Rab had tripped. She grabbed one, pulling it free from the rest. The weight of it gave her some pause, but it wasn't more than she could handle, and so she pulled the cloth open, and took a look underneath. It was a greatsword, the massive two-handed weapon sheathed in a heavy leather harness that strapped to the back and still allowed the sword to be drawn quickly. The sword itself tingled to her touch, obviously magical, and strongly so if she wasn't wrong. Just running her hands along the rest of the bundles told her that there was a great deal more magic in them, though she wouldn't really know what their enchantments were without some time to study them and perhaps apply a bit of her own magic to aid her understanding.

"What are you doing there?" Kale's voice cut through her thoughts, and she winced at the sound. She hadn't heard him coming, or the door opening. Being so wet had really thrown her off, and the distraction of all this nifty magical adventurer's gear hadn't helped.

"I was looking at all this stuff," she answered, no reason to lie, especially when caught in the act.

"That's the property of my guests," the innkeeper growled at her, and Shaia frowned at him. She had expected the custom of travelers with a storm on top of them would put him in a better mood, but he was obviously irritated by something.

"I know, but I wanted to look anyways."

"You don't touch their property, do you hear me you damned wood-witch," Kale snarled, and Shaia saw actual violence spark in his eyes.

"As you wish," she said carefully, putting the sword on top of the pile with enough care to keep the whole mess from collapsing. She had never gotten a reaction like this from Kale Sharnan, not even when he knew that his children were infatuated with her. There had been a subtle, repressed hostility there, for sure, but never anything overt. She had even laughed with him over drinks a few times, listening to the stories told by the other villagers, and had saved half of the inn from collapsing due to an infestation of wood-eating bugs. He might not have liked the affect she had on the young men and women of the village, a concern she shared even if no one believed her about it, but he had respected her, perhaps even liked her. "There," she said, taking a couple steps away from the cart. "I won't even go near it."

"Good, good." Kale said, the dangerous light leaving his eyes. "Just don't, don't do anything that'll upset them, okay?" He had passed from sudden rage to cowering worry in the space of a few words. Shaia's eyes narrowed, something was up, and she had no doubt the traveling adventurers were at the heart of it. Visibly relaxing against the doorframe the innkeeper rubbed at his neatly trimmed beard. "So you'll be wanting to stay here for the storm."

"I will," she said, even though it had not been a question. "I don't want to be out in a storm like this any more than you do. Or your guests."

His eyes flashed at her. "You won't be getting one of their rooms!"

"Didn't even imagine it," she said, turning her suspicions over in her mind. "I know you've got beds set up for the farmers who'll be finding their way here soon enough, if there's enough free I'll take one of them. If not, then I'm sure Rinni won't mind if she had to share her bed again."

"No, no I suppose she won't," Kale said, his gaze unfocusing. "Ah my little heart, my poor sweet little heart," the whispered words were full of a pain that she had never before heard in the innkeeper's voice, and immediately she began to call to mind all the magic her connection with nature offered her. Something was very wrong here, the Adventurers at the heart of it. She would need to be exceptionally wary.

"Tell me, please," she began, carefully leaning against the crate she had crouched atop earlier. "What are these travelers like? I haven't met someone from outside the Hollow since I first came here."

"They're," Kale paused, and his mouth quivered for a moment, the look on his face caught somewhere between sadness and awe. "They're amazing," he breathed. "So beautiful, so perfect. He's just so perfect," Shaia perked up in interest. Unless there was more than one like him in the party, he was talking of the Half-Elf she had seen on the road. "His eyes, so blue, like the colour of the sky in your dreams. And his voice, ah, his voice like a warm purr in your head, so you're moving to do what he wants before you even know what it is!"

That was it, and quick as she could Shaia pulled to mind a spell that would aid in resisting such charms woven against her. The stranger had caught her attention on the road, but if he was ensorcelling Kale Sharnan then he was no longer a curiosity and had become a threat. "What is his name?"

"His name is Daevock," Kale said. "Have you ever heard the like of that name?"

"Yes," Shaia admitted, thinking as fast as she could about how she would confront this stranger. "It's Draconic. It's more a title than a name though, it means something like 'one who gathers only unique things'. The Dragons use it to refer to members of their kind who hoard things that are far rarer than gold, magic and other treasures. A term for a kind of specialized collector."

"A man who appreciates fine things, far finer than I've ever known. Yes, that's right," Kale said, nodding in agreement to the imagined compliment to his guest.

"Can I stay then?"

"You promise not to bother my guests in any way? I'll not have you under my roof if you're going to make trouble with them. I'll even tolerate you making eyes at my boy if you swear to stay out of their path!"

Shaia couldn't hold back an astounded blink. He thought _she_ was the one making eyes at Rab? That had to be the charm magic talking. So was the promise he was trying to pull from her, and so she had no reluctance about lying. "Yes, I swear to that," she said.

"Good, good," the innkeeper said, and pulled himself straight. "Well then, follow me and I'll tell Rinni she's to have a bed-mate for the next few days."

She padded after him as he moved into the inn. Even as she was stepping onto the wooden floor of the kitchen she was casting the small spell that would bolster her will against any magic this Daevock would weave against her mind. She was confident in her ability to shake off any such manipulation he might try, as it had often been remarked on just how strong her force of will could be when she set her mind to something. It had been what had seen her through the many trials she needed to pass before being accepted as a Druid. It had been that strength that had allowed her to leave her friends, her family, her entire way of life behind to seek the path of balance and harmony. She had every right to be confident now, though it was a wary confidence.

Kale pushed his way through the door from the kitchen to the common room and she ghosted after him. The floorboards that creaked and groaned with his passing loud enough to be heard over the wind didn't so much as squeak as her feet touched them. They were old boards, but they still remembered the great trees they had come from, and honored the passage of a Druid.

He stopped as he opened the door, the innkeeper's jaw working soundlessly, his eyes rolling back towards her with a blistering mix of emotions flying across his features. She kept a steady gaze on him, knowing that he was fighting the magical compulsions that were forcing him to act out of his nature. He wouldn't be strong enough, she knew, not even a hardy frontier lifestyle could give the common human the mental fortitude needed to repel such spells. She would save him, though. The powers of the Arcane were strong, the strongest of the three magics, but she was a powerful Druid and this was a small town deep in the wilds. This was her territory, and that would give her all the advantage she would need.

Kale held the door open for her, and she obliged by stepping past him. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, making the room uncomfortably warm, but providing more than enough light for her to see the faces turned towards her. Two women sitting at one of the tables, one paused in the midst of flipping through a small leather-bound book and the other arrayed in dark makeup and eyeing her with a viciousness that set the hairs on the back of Shaia's neck standing on end. Two men sat near them, one human, the other Elven, both with the cold gazes of men to whom killing came easily. Standing out from the shadows of the room's corner with hair the colour of flame was another woman, the only one not looking at her.

Shaia tried to examine all of them, to gauge how difficult it would be to incapacitate them, but she found her eyes betraying her. She could no more than glance at the others in the room before she found herself staring at the table where Kale Sharnan's family sat with the last of the travelers. A shiver began deep within her belly, spreading out slowly along her spine until it felt like every hair on her body was at attention. Her eyes found his, and suddenly she was drowning in pools of impossible blue. She couldn't look anywhere else, could barely forcer her mind to think of anything else but him. Blood quickened in her veins, dying her pale skin in shades of lust as the heat that had kindled when she had first seen at a distance on the road burst into a roaring inferno. She scrambled desperately in her mind, pulling together her will to resist the unnatural allure that radiated from the half-elf at the table.

It was so much stronger now that she could see him clearly, now when he was only a few short strides away from her. She wanted him, wanted him so badly that it was difficult to remember that it was magic causing that emotion, that it had to be resisted. She could take him now, her ensorcelled mind was telling her, right here on the swept floorboards of the inn with the fire turning the air into a furnace and the others in the room left to rut, leave or watch as they would. It was a primal desire more intense than anything she had ever experienced. It was vicious, uncaring, animal.

It was an animal impulse, and therefore the realm of the Druid. She could handle the animal in her, knew how to channel it and yoke it to her purpose instead of having it own her. She let the desire in, refusing to fight it as it coursed through her body, letting it fill her. A low growl rose in her throat, and she let it come to the surface. She could already feel her mind clearing, the magic that Daevock used was accomplishing its purpose, magnifying her desire to an intense level, pulling all the deepest impulses to the surface. It did not truly touch her mind. It was a purely emotional manipulation, designed not to usurp the will but to make the victims own mind break itself to him in resisting the feelings the magic enhanced.

"Ah," he said, rising to his feet to greet her. He seemed to fill the entire room, his presence turning him into a giant while reducing her and everyone else to helpless children. "You must be this Shaia I have heard so many delightful things about," he said, moving towards her. His voice slid into her ears like a fine oil, words like caresses that made goosebumps rise on her arms. "My name is Daevock, and I lead this band of simple travelers," he smiled at her and began making introductions. Her mind, above the boiling need of her body, made a note of each of them, though her eyes remained fixed on his face. When he had finished he gestured to the table, where Rinni and Polla stared with rapture at the sorcerer's handsome face. "Please, sit down, I do wish to hear more of your woods."

She was moving before she could think about it, and as she sat down she felt his hand touch lightly on her shoulder. A shock went through her at that touch, followed immediately by a second one as she realized what he had done. He had just dispelled all her protections, every spell she had placed on herself to protect her mind and body from assault had been stripped from her with that one touch, and he had not uttered a single word of power or made any arcane gestures. This was a powerful sorcerer indeed.

"Now, Shaia," he said, sitting down next to her, and she could feel her carefully hoarded will melting away. "Tell me about yourself."


End file.
